


Ignorance Is Bliss

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crack, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, I'm really sorry, One Shot Out of Boredom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 01:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: They say having some secrets is what spices up a relationship. Then again, no one ever says that said secrets have to involve murder.(This is crack. Just crack.)





	Ignorance Is Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored, I saw this prompt ( http://impromptu-prompts.tumblr.com/post/158610294217/night-aus-you-talk-in-your-sleep-and-you-pretty) on Tumblr and I couldn't help myself. It’s the only excuse I have.

Kurt couldn't sleep.

It wasn't a common occurrence. It usually took him several days of overworking himself to still be in bed past 7 am and either someone making an awful lot of noise outside or an unhealthy amount of caffeine to persuade his body to keep him awake after 11 pm. This time, however, it had nothing to do with people yelling and cackling at an ungodly hour and everything to do with the person who was currently sleeping curled beside him.

 

"Step four: locate the arteries. Step five: slice one or both of the arteries."

 

He had almost found it amusing, at first, that not even someone like Fortuna was exempt from something as mundane as talking in her sleep. Until he had started to understand _just what_ she was talking about, that is. To a closer inspection, it turned out that she was mumbling under her breath what sounded alarmingly like a series of concise steps - in graphic detail, no less - aimed at the final goal of murdering someone in the most efficient way possible.

 

Had it been literally any other thing he wouldn't have minded. Breaking an arm? Sure. Incapacitating an attacker? Why not. He was an accountant, for God's sake, he couldn't expect to know what was and what wasn't part of the everyday duties of a professional bodyguard. One thing he was pretty sure of, however, was that they probably didn't include slicing your opponent's throat.

 

Kurt's first instinct had been to wake her up, but as he rested his hand on Fortuna's shoulder and was about to gently shake her awake, he found himself hesitating.

 

She had had a rough day, he considered - well, all days were rough when your job was to ensure the safety of a controversial authority in the field of scientific research. But it wasn't an acceptable reason to wake her up the middle of the night, was it? Murder plans aside, she seemed to be resting peacefully, after all.

 

"Step eight: make sure the target's heart stopped beating before leaving. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

 

He rolled onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut, doing his very best to ignore his partner's mumblings.

 

Hopefully, he would try to address the issue in the morning.

 

****

 

Kurt stifled a yawn.

 

Oh, he had fallen asleep at some point, but his dreams had been populated by cryptic images of Fortuna handing him a blood-stained knife and asking him to help her hide a body, only to discover that said body wasn't really dead as it got back to his feet and started chasing them down a series of dirty, endless alleyways.

 

The more he thought about it, the more it started to look like a horrible dejà-vu. As absurd as it was, it wouldn't have been the first time one of his relationships ended with his partner being charged with third-degree murder.

 

Jacob, whose mischievous grin he still remembered with an array of conflicting emotions, had simultaneously been one of the best and worst things to ever happen to him during his teenage years. Charming, preternaturally-skilled-with-a-knife Jacob, who used to drag him into all sorts of adventures until he was forced to admit that he was having fun, and whose face was one day broadcasted in the news all over the country accompanied by the blurred pictures of three bodies laying dead on a sidewalk.

In all honesty, he should have picked up the hints way earlier. But he was eighteen, and he was in love, and he was already having a hard time coming to terms with it that he had ended up overlooking even the most alarming of his boyfriend's odd antics. He would have hated to make the same mistake twice.

 

_What are the odds that the only two partners I have ever had turn out to be both serial killers?_ he mused as he sipped his coffee. He was about to grab pen and paper to run some numbers, when he was interrupted by Fortuna walking into the kitchen.

 

"Good morning."

 

" 'Morning."

 

It was a rare treat to have both their schedules matching up. More often than not they ended up having breakfast, lunch, and sometimes even dinner on their own, only to meet up at home late in the evening, when they were both too tired to do anything other than pass out in front of whatever movie they were showing on tv. He was determined to make the most of it. Which meant finding out, as tactfully as possible, why his partner was so well versed in the art of killing.

 

He let her settle down, grab some pancakes and pour herself a cup of tea, before sitting opposite to her and ever-so-carefully breaching the subject.

 

"Did you sleep well?"

 

Fortuna only nodded, too busy tackling a pile of chocolate-flavoured pancakes. He had known her long enough to interpret the following gesture she made as a 'and you?'.

 

"Me too," he said.

 

She let out a hum of acknowledgement and attacked the second pancake. The room fell silent, save for the occasional scraping of fork against plate. Back to square one.

 

Kurt had never been a man of many words; his life would have been ten times easier if he could have expressed his feelings and opinions through numbers. Numbers, he had found out in years of working with them, were straightforward and they weren't cause of misunderstandings as often as words were.

 

When he looked up, he found Fortuna staring at him. _Well_ , he thought, _here goes nothing._

 

"You know I love you more than anything, right?"

 

Fortuna's eyebrows knitted into a small frown. He could see suspicion in her eyes, as clear as day. Truth to be told, he couldn't blame her; neither of them was really the type for mindless sweet-talk. Quite the opposite, actually.

 

"Yes...?"

 

"And that we agreed that 'no secrets between us' is a stupid policy because a solid relationship is built on trust and not on invading each other's privacy?"

 

The confused look didn't disappear - if anything, her frown deepened. After a short while, however, she said:

 

"Go on."

 

He did. "Suppose I were to ask you, would tell me if you've ever ki--"

 

The sudden chime of a ringtone interrupted Kurt mid-sentence, prompting Fortuna to reach for her smartphone and unlock it with a swipe of her thumb. She didn't seem pleased with what she read on the small screen.

 

"Bad news?" He inquired.

 

"Uhm," she nodded, taking one last bite of her pancakes. "The Doctor just called for a press conference. Guess who won the privilege of escorting her to the auditorium?"

 

She then pushed the plate aside and left the room, disappearing around the corner that led to the bathroom. When she reappeared, she had fixed her hair, changed into her black suit and was doing a few last adjustments, buttoning her shirt cuffs and tightening the knot of her tie.

 

"See you for dinner?"

 

The question was apparently meant to be rhetorical, as just as Kurt was about to answer, Fortuna leaned in for a brief kiss and, without another word, crossed the corridor and let the door slam shut behind her. Before he knew it, he was alone in the small kitchen, with a plate of unfinished pancakes and a half-empty cup of tea.

 

He sighed.

 

Maybe he didn't really want to know.


End file.
